


all tides pull towards home

by thornmarch



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:34:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22899601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornmarch/pseuds/thornmarch
Summary: When Dedue follows Dimitri to the remote coastal town of Rhodos for work, he expects it to be like any other assignment they've had. Instead he finds a group of wonderful friends, a home away from home, and a mysterious creature with a beautiful smile.
Relationships: Flayn/Dedue Molinaro, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my extreme self-indulgence please enjoy the ride
> 
> also shoutout to my dear friend avy who encourages me even when they probably shouldn't. ilu

Rhodos is in a somewhat remote coastal region of Faerghus. The village is nestled in amongst the hills a few miles back from the cliffs, hidden in the twists and turns like a little green gem. It sees a surge in visitors during the summer months when hundreds of people arrive seeking the tranquil cool of the pristine beaches but, during the other nine months of the year, it’s the type of place where everyone knows your name. It’s a town that feels a little bit lost in time. The roads are still cobblestone, the pharmacy is an ‘apothecary’, and you can actually see the stars in the sky at night.

It reminds Dedue of home. Maybe that’s a little odd to say, given that he’s hours away and Rhodos doesn’t look at all like his hometown, but it has that same feeling. He had expected to be treated as an outsider. Instead he was welcomed with open arms.

Perhaps it helped to have Dimitri with him. He’d heard endless tales of childhood summers in Rhodos, of fireworks and scabbed knees and ice cream, and the friends Dimitri had made there. He knew all the tears and tantrums. All the stories that left Dimitri laughing so thoroughly that he cried. In a way he felt that he’d known these people since long before they’d met.

It was a strange relief to meet them, and learn that they felt the same.

“Here’s the man of the hour!” A red-headed man shouts at them as soon as they’re out of the car. He makes a beeline straight for Dedue and offers his hand.

A blonde woman behind him rolls her eyes. “Must you greet people like that? You’re not making a good first impression.”

Dedue isn’t quite sure how to react. Yes, he had expected there to be a greeting committee of some sort, but he had also assumed they wouldn’t arrive until after they’d unpacked. And why is he ‘the man of the hour’? He glances over to Dimitri, who shrugs back at him.

“I assume you are Sylvain,” he says, opting to shake hands. He’s seen pictures but they were at least a decade old - this Sylvain is much taller.

Sylvain grins, pulls him in, and claps him across the back. “Don’t be shy; we’re huggers here.”

“No, we’re not,” another man calls from beside the blonde woman.

“Don’t listen to him. He’s just jealous.”

The woman - Ingrid, he assumes - shakes her head and elbows Sylvain out of the way. “I apologise for them. They never learned proper manners.”

Dimitri circles around the car to join them, only to be dragged into a hug by Sylvain. “I see you three haven’t changed.”

“Unfortunately,” she sighs. 

They’re standing just outside town hall - an ancient building of red brick in the centre of town. The front of the building comprises a hardwood door flanked by two decorative stone pillars, with three square windows on each side. It’s considerably smaller than the civic centres Dedue is used to in the capital. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. He’s never liked the sharp architecture of modern buildings.

Next to the hall stands a small wooden house. It’s sandwiched between the hall and what looks like a diner, the space just wide enough for the door and a single bay window. It’s the house they’ll be staying in - he knew it was close to work, but he didn’t realise it was right next door.

He moves to start unloading the car and Ingrid taps him on the shoulder.

“Not a chance. You just drove for what, eight hours? Let us take care of that.”

“Besides,” Sylvain says. “We might have a surprise for you.”

Dimitri visibly pales at his words. “Is this the good sort of surprise, or the bad sort?”

“The sort where we tell you we went to clean that dump yesterday and found half the building rotted. There’s no way you’re staying there,” the other man says. Ah, he must be Felix.

Dimitri sighs. “A minor setback. Can I assume you’ve made alternative arrangements, or shall we be sleeping in our car?”

Alternative arrangements turned out to be a choice between one room at the Dominic household two blocks over, and a restored fisherman’s shack a few miles out of town. Given that Dimitri is already acquainted with the Dominics (of course he is, he knows everyone, or at least everyone knows him) and Dedue had expressed an interest in fishing during their stay, the choice is obvious.

That was a month ago.

The shack is, blessedly, more liveable than the word ‘shack’ had implied. It sits at the base of one of the many cliffs, a little rocky beach and a pier the only things separating it from the ocean. The exterior has been weathered to give the appropriately seaswept look, while the interior is fitted with all the usual modern conveniences. There’s a compact kitchen complete with stove and kettle, enough sitting room to entertain company, a newly fitted bathroom, and, to Dedue’s great relief, a king-sized bed. It even comes with a rowboat.

Apparently Sylvain’s family owned the land and he’d intended to rent it out during the summer.

“I told daddy dearest that I’d offered it to Dimitri as a favour,” he said, when Dedue had asked about rent. “He got so excited at the prospect of a Blaiddyd being in our debt that I thought he might actually ascend, said he could have the place for as long as he needed - no charge. Not my fault he didn’t ask any follow-up questions.”

Indeed.

With the beginnings of a garden, the shack is very much starting to feel like home. The sun warms his back as he plots out the latest additions in the soil. The tomatoes will need to be placed in such a way that they don’t overshadow their neighbours once they’ve sprouted, and with the limited beds available it’s a bit of a jigsaw. 

Still, it’s a nice problem to have. The apartments in Fhirdiad have so many rules about what could or couldn’t be grown on balconies - he hasn’t been able to have a proper garden in some time. 

He’s just about to open the seed packet when a gust of wind snatches the sun hat from his head. It sails past his outstretched hand and over the stony shore, skittering across the pier and into the water before he can scramble after it. 

Well. He liked that sun hat. Hopefully the fish will enjoy it as much as he had.

The distant thrum of an engine alerts him to the approaching car long before it winds its way down into the cove. He has time to plant the tomato seeds and dust himself off before an old white Volkswagen pulls up at the end of the road.

Sylvain bursts from the passenger seat as soon as the car stops moving, waving an arm over his head enthusiastically. “I brought groceries!”

Ingrid rolls her eyes from the driver’s seat. Dedue can’t hear her from this far away, but from the way Sylvain laughs it must be one of her usual acerbic responses.

Sunday lunches at the shack have quickly become a tradition. Ingrid rounds everyone up, they cook together, and then sit around - either in the kitchen or on the beach, depending on the weather - chatting about nothing in particular. And even though Dedue isn’t the type to join in, it’s still nice to have company.

Dimitri gathers the grocery bags into his arms and heads for the kitchen. “Felix won’t be joining us. He sends his apologies.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Sylvain calls from where he’s holding the front door open. “I texted to ask if he was coming and the answer was: ‘fuck you’.”

“ _Maybe_ you should have let me ask, like I suggested,” Ingrid sighs. “He’s still mad at you.”

“Well _maybe_ he should get over himself! I only asked for Annie’s number so I could give it to him anyway.” He waves Dimitri inside. “He might come back if we bribe him. Hey, Dima, you think you could get the elusive Miss Dominic to grace us with her presence?”

Ah, so today will be another episode in the ongoing saga of Felix’s potential love-life. No wonder he stayed away. Dedue follows them inside and helps Dimitri sort the supplies. Somewhere behind him, Ingrid is making a racket going through his pans.

“What are we cooking today?” he asks.

“I thought it might be nice to try omelettes,” she says.

“Bottom right drawer. We’ll need a skillet and a frying pan.”

“Oh, thanks.”

Meanwhile, the drama continues.

“What do you mean she’s too busy?” Sylvain whines. “She’s a teacher! She doesn’t work weekends.”

“She has lessons to plan,” Dimitri says. “I wouldn’t want to interfere.”

“Surely she can take one afternoon off.”

Dedue filters out the noise, instead focussing on finding the necessary materials. A bowl for mixing, something to mix with, a chopping board, a knife. He’ll need a large bowl to hold enough mixture for the four of them. He hands the chopping board to Ingrid, who shoves it at Sylvain.

“If you must gossip, can you at least do it while you help with the prep?”

“Fine, but my point still stands. And I’m pretty sure that if it comes to it, we can bribe Annie with sweets.”

“Must it always be bribery with you?” Dimitri asks, incredulous.

Sylvain shrugs. “Hey, whatever works.”

They settle into their usual rhythm. Sylvain continues to whine about perceived wrongs while he chops vegetables, Dimitri somehow manages to mangle a capsicum beyond recognition, Ingrid fries the filling when they’re done, and Dedue manages the egg part of the equation. The end result is pleasing enough, both to taste and to look at. It will be even more satisfying in a few months when they can use home-grown tomatoes.

“In any case,” Ingrid drawls, setting her cutlery down on her freshly cleared plate, “you should apologise. If only to keep the peace.”

Sylvain rolls his eyes. “Fine. You’re such a mother.”

There’s a sharp bang as she kicks him under the table and he yelps, flinching away.

“How is your fishing coming along, Dedue?” Dimitri asks, smiling.

Finally, a conversation in which he can comfortably participate. “Well enough. The mullet are plentiful; I could eat them almost everyday if I were so inclined.”

“Wonderful. Perhaps you could spare a portion of your next catch? I would like to thank my hosts for their hospitality, and I think one of your fish would make a suitable offering.”

“Of course.”

Dimitri could have anything of his, if he asked. When he’d gone to the capital for school - an opportunity too good to pass up, even if it took him far from his family - Dimitri had been the only one to treat him as though he belonged. They’d survived that hostile environment together. It was why he hadn’t hesitated to follow his friend to the other side of the country when Dimitri had been offered the city management position.

But that’s too heavy a topic for such a light-hearted lunch, so he chooses a different one instead.

“Will you visit the clinic tomorrow?” Work: a familiar fallback.

Dimitri thinks on it a moment, then frowns at him. “You’ll not trick me so easily. No work on Sundays, not even for you.”

Ah. The golden rule. They’ve both had enough bosses over the years that demanded every waking minute of their lives and, now Dimitri is in charge, he’s in a position to change things. 

“My apologies. Old habits die hard, it seems.”

“No harm done,” Dimitri says. “But to answer your question, I haven’t decided yet. We’ll need to see how the office is looking tomorrow morning.”

Sylvain slides across the table on his elbows towards Dimitri, fluttering his eyelashes. “Can I come with? Thinking about that nurse gives me a fever - I might need a checkup.”

“You’re the worst,” Ingrid sighs.

The sun is dipping towards the horizon by the time he waves them goodbye. The car disappears around the bend and he meanders back to the garden, gloves on and trowel in hand. He makes quick work of the carrots. Next comes the rosemary and sage, and once they’re planted he takes a step back to survey his work. Four neat rows each of carrots and tomatoes, and a pot that will hopefully soon be overflowing with herbs. Not bad.

He stretches, waters the plants, and is about to head back inside for the evening when something on the dock catches his eye. It’s not immediately clear what it is from so far away so he moves closer, cautiously, as though whatever it is might bite.

It’s his hat.

The hat sits on the pier, tipped upside-down, a rock placed inside to keep it from blowing away again. Dedue looks around. There’s no one here but him, no indication that anyone beside his friends have set foot in the cove all day. 

Perhaps someone further out found the hat and brought it back? No, if anyone had bothered to fish it up it would have been to throw it away. A wave, then? But the waters are calm. They have been all day. And it’d take one hell of a storm to toss a rock like this up on the pier. What are the chances such a thing would _also_ blow his hat back to shore?

Carefully, he picks up the two objects and examines them. His hat is wet but no worse for wear, and there doesn’t appear to be anything special about the rock. He looks around again. Maybe it’s a prank? But his friends arrived after he lost his hat. It doesn’t make sense.

As strange as it is, it almost feels like someone has done him a favour. He crouches to drop the rock into the water and looks out across the waves.

“Thank you for returning my hat.”

If there is something out there that retrieved it for him, it’s only right to properly thank it.

He turns to walk back inside, pinning the hat on the clothesline on the way. At least now he won’t have to buy a new one.

\--

He mentions it at work the next morning, and Sylvain looks at him like he’s lost his mind.

“You’ve got to be messing with me,” the red-head says between gulps of tea. “There’s no way that happened.”

“I assure you, I have made no embellishments. I will show you the hat if you like.”

Sylvain raises an eyebrow as him. “I mean you can, but that doesn’t really prove that it was blown out to sea.”

“Well I think it’s wonderful,” Dimitri’s voice calls from somewhere behind a tower of permits. The requests for the tourist season had started coming in over the weekend, and the office was covered in them. “It reminds me of those stories Ingrid’s grandmother used to tell when we were young.”

“The ones about merfolk?” Sylvain scoffs. “Come on, you know they’re not real.”

Dedue is familiar with the concept. Humanoid creatures of the deep, a huge tail in place of their legs, teeth sharp enough to bite through an oar. The stories of his homeland usually include disappeared children and a warning not to stray too far from the watchful eyes of elders. It’s not surprising to learn that a coastal town like Rhodos might have their own myths.

Dimitri sticks his head around the paperwork. “The sea is a very large place. Can you honestly say that there is no possibility for such things to exist?” 

“If some hot fish lady wants to hang out I’m down,” Sylvain says. “But I’ve never seen one, and Ingrid has never seen one, so I’m pretty sure they’re not real.”

Dedue notes that Felix’s name is absent from that list. Something to look into later, perhaps. He ignores Sylvain and turns to Dimitri. “What do the local legends say?”

Dimitri hums, taking the first sheet of paper off his pile and starting to read. “I don’t remember all of the stories, but I think you’re supposed to properly thank the merfolk if they choose to help you.”

“Yeah, they might sneak onto land in the night and eat your heart if you don’t,” Sylvain supplies.

“And how would one properly thank them?” Dedue asks.

“Grandmother Galatea said they liked things you wouldn’t find in the sea,” Dimitri says. “Fruit, household items, jewellery, that sort of thing.”

He thinks on it as he goes about his day. There is _something_ out in the cove, and is there really any harm in leaving out some fruit overnight to see what happens? He buys a couple of apples and a container to keep them in during his lunch break. 

He has a theory. If there’s nothing out there, or some sort of animal, the container will either vanish overnight or remain unopened. Anything intelligent will be able to open the container and reach the apples within. Maybe it’s not the best plan, but it’s better than nothing.

So when he arrives home that evening, the first thing he does is walk out onto the pier. He crouches at the end and peers into the water. Nothing. As calm and clear as ever.

He sets the container down and drums a simple _pat-pat-pat_ on the lid. There’s no movement, only the rolling of the waves.

“Hello,” he calls, feeling foolish already. “Thank you again. For my hat.”

A gull cawing in the distance is his only answer.

“I’ve brought some apples as thanks. You can find them in here.” He drums on the lid again.

Still nothing. Of course there’s nothing. Merfolk aren’t real. And if they are, they certainly don’t go around showing themselves to humans.

He stands and starts walking back down the pier. This is silly. 

He’s going to wake up in the morning and that container will be right where he left it, apples and all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dedue is apparently stuck in a gift-giving loop, Ashe gives good advice, and Annette bakes a cake.

The container is, in fact, exactly where he left it. 

Dedue berates himself as he goes to collect it. Of course nothing happened. It’s childish to even consider that something so fanciful as merfolk might exist. He scoops the container into his arms and- wait a minute. It’s much heavier than it was last night, and _something_ that is very definitely not an apple rattles around inside with the movement.

He stops and looks around. The little cove is as empty as always, the only sign of life is the gulls wheeling about up on the cliffs. Carefully, he shakes the container next to his ear. Whatever’s inside sounds like… rocks?

Satisfied that whatever it is isn’t going to leap out and attack him, he opens the lid just enough to take a look. It is rocks. Lots of them. The container has been filled with smooth pebbles of blue and green and every shade in-between, and when he fishes one out for a closer look it shines in the morning sun.

It’s sea glass.

Something - _someone_ \- has taken the apples and left him a pile of sea glass.

Again he looks around, expecting one of his friends (Sylvain, probably) to jump out of hiding and declare that they had fooled him. That it’s all an elaborate prank. He stands, and waits, and when no one appears he looks back out to sea. For a moment he thinks he sees something moving in the water, large and green and not quite the right shape for a fish, but then he blinks, and it’s gone.

This has all gotten very strange, very quickly.

“I appreciate the gift,” he calls out across the waves. “Would you like more apples?”

Something moves just outside his vision. When he turns to look, there’s nothing there.

“I will leave some out for you again tonight.”

He waits another minute, just in case, and then walks back to shore to finish getting ready for work.

\--

Sylvain is, miraculously, already at the office when he arrives. Dimitri is nowhere to be found.

Dedue sets the container of sea glass on his desk and cranes his neck to see over the ever-growing pile of documents on Dimitri’s desk, half expecting to see the man hiding behind them with a mug of coffee.

“He’s at the clinic,” Sylvain says, not looking up from whatever game he’s playing on his phone. “Said he probably won’t be back ‘til after lunch.”

Dedue hums an acknowledgment, scoops the top half off one of the piles, and sits down to work. Most of the correspondence this morning concerns the summer solstice festival - copies of insurances, applications from vendors, and the seemingly endless amount of permits necessary to pull the whole thing together. He skims each paper before sorting it into one of four piles: documents to file, proposals to reject, requests to approve, and things that will have to wait for Dimitri.

Sylvain yawns and tosses his phone onto his desk. “So, since you’re here, I’m going to assume you weren’t eaten by merfolk overnight.”

“So it would seem.”

The red-head pouts, having failed to provoke the reaction he wanted. He slips back into an easy smile when he sees the container. “Oh, did you bring lunch today?”

“No,” Dedue says.

“Can I have some?”

“It’s not food.”

“Okay, okay, I get it. You don’t have to share if you don’t want to.”

He shakes his head, frowning, and opens the container to reveal the sea glass within. 

Sylvain raises an eyebrow. “A bunch of shiny rocks?”

“Sea glass.”

“Right, right. But, uh, _why_?”

Dedue shrugs. “You would not believe me.”

“Let me guess: merfolk?”

He shrugs again.

Sylvain laughs. “You know what? I respect the dedication you have to this joke. Good job.”

Dedue sighs. He knows how it sounds. If it weren’t happening to him, he would have thought the circumstances ridiculous. Honestly, he’s still trying to figure out how to explain it. Is there something, anything, he’s missed that makes it clear that this is all a misunderstanding? That his hat had returned was strange, but not entirely beyond the realm of possibility. The sea glass, though? They’ve tipped squarely into the unexplainable.

He’s not as productive as he’d like that morning. It’s hard to focus when one is distracted with questions of the veracity of merfolk. Is there anyone he can ask? Preferably someone who didn’t grow up listening to Ingrid’s grandmother.

He texts Ashe.

_D: Lunch today?_

_A: Sure!! Do you want to go to the diner? If so, I’ll meet you there! :)_

_D: Sounds good._

Ashe is the only person he’s met in his month here who neither grew up in Rhodos, nor spent large parts of their childhood by the coast. He’d come to town with dreams of pursuing floristry - dreams that had been realised, if the quaint little shop on main street was anything to go by. His skill with arrangement and generally agreeable manner has made him very popular with the older residents.

Like Ingrid’s grandmother.

Oh. Hopefully that will not affect his opinion.

Dedue arrives at the diner five minutes early, and isn’t at all surprised to find Ashe waiting for him at their usual booth. Stepping into the diner always feels a bit like stepping back in time. Everything is vinyl. The floors, the upholstery, the benchtops, all different colours and patterns of the stuff. Given that the material is not nearly worn enough to be original, he can’t help wondering why the owners had kept the aesthetic. Sentimental value? Perhaps. All he knows is that the black and white checkered pattern of the floor leaves him disoriented. And that the cook here makes a halfway decent burger.

Ashe waves him over, a bright smile on his face. “Hello, Dedue! Did you have a nice weekend? I remember you mentioned planting some tomatoes.”

“Yes, thank you,” he says, sliding into his seat. “The plants are settling in nicely. How is your shop?”

“Business is starting to pick up, what with summer just around the corner. I might have to hire a few extra hands just for beach season.”

“Is Loog not pulling his weight?” He’s referring to Ashe’s cat - a delightful Russian blue with the loudest meow he’s ever heard.

Ashe snorts. “He’s wonderful, but I really do need someone with opposable thumbs.”

“You could train him to use the register with the right incentive.”

“Maybe. Do you think he can do math?”

“If any cat can, it’s Loog.”

They continue back and forth over their meal, conversation eventually shifting to their plans for summer. Dedue will be working. He suspects he may be dragged to the festival at some point, though he has no particular desire to attend.

“You should go,” Ashe insists. “There’s always a lot of good food, and artesans come from all over the country to set up stalls at the market! I’m sure your family would appreciate if you sent them some souvenirs.”

“You have a point,” he concedes. “My sisters, in particular. Perhaps I can find some jewellery for them.”

“We can look together if you’d like,” Ashe smiles. “Last year there was a woman from Brigid selling sea glass pieces.”

“Sea glass?” Dedue blinks.

“Yes! I bought a necklace for my sister - she loved it so much she wants matching earrings, so I hope the stall will be returning this year.”

He’d brought a piece of sea glass with him and so he fishes it out of his pocket and sets it on the table. “Like this?”

Ashe seizes the shard and holds it up to the light. “Exactly like this!” He turns it carefully, marvelling at how the surface shimmers like shallow water. “Did you find it on your beach?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Ashe looks at him sideways, raising an eyebrow. “I’m… not sure I understand what you mean by that.”

“I…” Dedue taps one finger nervously on the table. He’d rehearsed this, but it still sounds… more than a little insane. “Have you heard the folktales? Mythical beings live along our coast. Supposedly.”

“Huh?” He sets the sea glass back on the table and frowns. “I’ve heard Mrs Galatea talk about it, but… I didn’t think you’d be the type. To believe, I mean.”

“Neither did I,” Dedue says. 

He recounts the mysterious occurrences: the hat, the apples, the sea glass. Ashe listens with elbows on the table and chin resting in his hands. He nods along, humming at anything that catches his interest, and closes his eyes to think when the story is finished.

“Well… I... don’t quite know what to make of it,” he says. “I’ve always thought it would be nice if merfolk existed, but it’s a very different feeling when it actually starts to seem… possible?” Ashe waves a hand. “I’m sorry, that didn’t make much sense.”

“No, I understand,” Dedue smiles. It is, more or less, how he’s been feeling all day. “If they are real, then we have to consider what other creatures might be out there. The world suddenly becomes an unfamiliar place.”

“Mmm,” Ashe hums. He tilts his head from side to side, “but you know, if they are real, then it’s really neat that one’s taken a liking to you.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, there’s surely a reason they don’t make themselves known to humans. You must be pretty special if they’re willing to take that risk.”

Dedue coughs, furiously trying to suppress a blush. He’s not used to receiving such direct compliments. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“It’s a bit like you’re in a fairytale,” Ashe laughs. 

They go their separate ways after lunch, and when Dedue returns to the office he sets a line of sea glass along the windows. He’ll get another couple of apples on the way home. 

\--

There’s no sea glass in the morning. The apples are gone. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought the same gift twice in a row.

Well, he can try again with a different fruit. Peaches? Oranges? Or maybe he’s going in the wrong direction. Something other than fruit? He muses on it while he brings in the net, thoughts drawing to an abrupt halt when he pulls and the catch is _heavy_. Is it caught on something? He tugs experimentally - no, not caught. Just a lot of something, or something big. It takes a full five minutes of straining to haul his catch onto the pier, and even then he’s confused by what he finds.

There’s an albacore in his net. A big one. Definitely not the kind that swims in shallow waters.

He throws the fish over his shoulder and looks out across the cove. Did something chase it into the net? No, it looks like it’s been freshly bled. Probably within the hour. There’s a slice between its gills - one deep, clean cut. Did his- uh- _friend_ catch it, kill it, and put it in the net for him to find?

There’s something green floating about halfway out, too far to see clearly. At first he thinks it’s seaweed. Then he squints and- is that _half a head_ poking out of the water? Two green eyes stare back at him, wide, and then vanish into the waves.

“Thank you!” He calls after it. 

At least he remembered his manners.

\--

Having remembered that Dimitri had asked to share in some of his fishing spoils, Dedue does what he can to put the albacore on ice and brings it into town.

Dimitri is already at the office when he arrives. For once not at his desk, he stands by the windows with a mug of tea in hand, peering at the sea glass. "Good morning, my friend. I have been appreciating these delightful stones. Please extend my thanks to the merfolk; they have brightened up this place nicely."

Would they be pleased to know that others also appreciated the gift? He tries to imagine what those green eyes would look like smiling, but it's hard to complete the picture without the rest of the face. 

"I will pass the message on," he says. 

Dimitri hums, taking a sip of his tea. "Dare I ask if there have been further gifts?"

He nods. "I will… definitely have to share this one, as well."

"Oh?"

Dedue motions for the other man to follow, leading him outside. He opens the trunk of his car to reveal the fish within. It sits mostly in a tub of ice, head and tail hanging over the sides.

"Is that _tuna_?" Dimitri asks. 

Dedue nods. "So it would seem."

"It's… a big one"

"Yes, that is why I said I would need to share it. Would you take half? I could not eat it alone."

Dimitri blinks at him. "Are you sure? A catch like this does not come in everyday."

He considers the question. "I could freeze the meat, but it will be much more enjoyable fresh. You should take some to share with Annette and Mr Dominic. I am sure they would be appreciative."

"Well, if you're sure…"

That decided, they take the fish to the Dominic household for storage. The Baron even volunteers to gut and clean it for them. Why do they call Annette's uncle the Baron? No one has told him. It seems to just be the way of things.

The rest of their day continues uneventfully. Sylvain is an hour late, and apologises by way of donuts. Dimitri vanishes under his pile of paperwork. Dedue answers emails. Lunch comes and goes, and the day is most of the way finished when a visitor knocks on their door.

"Hello, everyone!" A cheerful voice calls. It belongs to Annette - a short woman with orange hair, turquoise eyes, and the roundest face he's ever seen. Sylvain had once said that she is shaped like a friend, and he is inclined to agree. 

Speaking of Sylvain, he has his feet up on his desk, and moves quickly to right himself when he sees who their visitor is. "Hey, Annie. Come to sort out what your little gremlins are doing at the festival?"

She laughs, breezing into the room to find a seat. "You know it! They're all very excited to practice their dancing."

"Oh, are they doing the-" Sylvain sticks his left arm out to the side, his right mimicking the motion but bent at the elbow so his hand covers his face.

Annette squeals in excitement. "Yes! Wow, you must be really up with the trends! I hadn't heard about any of these moves before the kids showed me."

"I just spend a lot of time on the internet," Sylvain says.

Annette rummages through her bag, producing a file - which she hands to Dimitri - and a cake box. She holds it high to show it off before setting it on the closest unoccupied surface.

"You're all working so hard, I just had to bake something for you," she beams. "And don't worry - Mercie helped me, so it's not all lumpy like last time."

Dedue doesn't recognise the name, but he's glad that Annette hadn't been cooking unsupervised. He'd tasted her last attempt. Not only was it lumpy, but she'd managed to burn the outside without cooking the inside.

Carefully, she cuts each of them a slice and serves them on napkins. It's a basic chocolate sponge. The cake is springy to the touch and, when he chances a bite, has just the right amount of moisture. And surprisingly it's not too sweet. Whoever this 'Mercie' is, they certainly know their way around desserts.

"This is delicious, Annette. You have done quite well," Dedue says.

"You really think so?" She grins. "I'm glad. We didn't use as much sugar as usual, so I was worried it wouldn't taste right."

He doesn't have the heart to her that it tastes right precisely _because_ she didn't add an entire bag of sugar.

Dimitri hums his agreement. He holds the cake in one hand and the file in the other, stretched as far out as possible to avoid getting crumbs on the paper. "If you weren't going to be busy with the concert, I'd say you and Mercedes should have a cake stall."

“Huh? Oh, don’t tease me like that,” she says, hiding her face in her hands. “I’m not nearly good enough at baking to make money off it.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You’re a skilled chef, Dedue - would you pay for this cake?”

He pretends to think about it, smiling as Annette peers out from behind her fingers. “I would.”

“You guys…” She blushes. “You’re all too sweet.”

There’s still a considerable amount of cake left over, so they portion it up to deliver to their other friends. Sylvain takes three slices for Felix, Ingrid, and Mrs Galatea, and Annette reserves another three for Ashe, Mercedes, and her uncle. That leaves one slice for Dimitri and Dedue to fight over, each trying to get the other to take it.

“It would not be fair for me to be the only person to have two servings,” Dimitri says, pushing the container away.

Dedue frowns. “You’re always working late. Save it for later; you will need the energy.”

“I can eat something else. It won’t do to eat too much cake.”

“Two slices is hardly too much.”

“You know I don’tt have much of a sweet tooth,” Dimitri sighs. “Why do you not take it home and offer it to your aquatic friend?”

“Oh, yeah!” Sylvain laughs. “Give it to the fish. Maybe it will give you more rocks. Or is it too short notice to order another lot of sea glass?”

“Don’t be rude,” Dimitri tuts. 

Annette furrows her eyebrows. “Why would you feed cake to a fish?”

“They think there’s a fish-person living in the cove,” Sylvain shrugs. “I think Dedue’s pranking us, but apparently it’s _rude_ to say that.”

“So, like, merfolk?” She asks, eyes shining. “How do you know? Have you seen it? Oh, granny Galatea says there’s a handsome merman living out there, and when I was a kid I used to daydream about swimming out to sea and-”

“It brought me that sea glass,” Dedue says, sensing he should cut her off before she rushes into saying something that will embarrass her later. “And a fish.”

“A fish? Yeah, that couldn’t possibly have come from anywhere else,” Sylvain yawns.

Dimitri rolls his eyes. “Yes, I suppose an albacore the size of an adult human just wandered into the cove by accident.”

Sylvain’s eyebrows rocket up into his hairline. “I’m sorry, did you say _albacore_?”

“Just so,” Dimitri sniffs. He turns to Annette. “We dropped it off with your uncle. Perhaps we shall cook it up tonight.”

She gapes at him, eyes darting between him and Dedue. “You mean… we’re going to eat… tuna caught by a merfolk?”

“It does sound a bit strange when you say it like that,” Dimitri laughs.

Annette takes the container of cake and sets it down in front of Dedue. “Please, promise you’ll take this home and give it to them.

He can’t say no to that face. 

So he takes the container home. The tide’s already starting to come in when he arrives so he takes off his shoes and socks, rolls his pants up to his knees and dangles his legs in the water. It’s peaceful. There are no flashing lights, no sirens, no car horns. In that respect, it’s a little bit like his hometown. 

“If you’re out there, I’ve brought something different today,” he says. “My friend baked a cake. I wanted to share it with you, as thanks for the fish.”

He waits. The only answer is the gentle lapping of the waves against the pier. It’s a little disappointing, for some reason. He’d thought they might be less timid after this morning.

_There must be a reason they don’t make themselves known to humans._

Perhaps it is not just that they are reclusive by nature. Are they afraid? If so, why go through all the trouble of leaving these gifts? The apples were payment enough for saving his hat. So why the sea glass? Why the albacore? It doesn’t make any sense. 

The only way to find the answers to these questions is to ask the thing itself, and so he perseveres.

“Do you like chocolate?” he asks. Oh. Maybe they don’t know what chocolate is. “It is quite tasty. Sweet, too. If you liked the apples, you will probably like this.”

There’s movement in the water. Something glimmers under the waves, just too deep to see. It circles around the pier before coming up to the surface a few metres out, green eyes and hair poking up just above the waterline.

Dedue blinks. It stares. This time it doesn’t run away. Maybe they aren’t scared of him?

“Hello,” he says softly. He opens the container and holds it out, moving slowly to avoid spooking them. “Would you like some?”

The green thing bobs closer. Most of it is still obscured by the shifting water, but it’s close enough now that he can make out the shape of a human torso ending in a huge green tail. One webbed hand reaches out for the cake. Each finger ends in a wicked claw, and suddenly the cut on the fish makes sense. 

He’d been worried that it was afraid of him. He’d forgotten that perhaps he was the one who should be afraid.

But it doesn’t hurt him. It hesitates a moment, just short of taking the cake, before snatching it and withdrawing. He laughs. It’s hard not to, when all but their hand vanishes beneath the waves. They hold the cake aloft until they’ve returned to a safe distance, the back of their head bobbing into view. It eats. He watches. Then it vanishes again, and, assuming that’s all for today, he’s pulling his feet back onto the pier when a tiny face surfaces right in front of him.

He is - almost - familiar with the eyes and hair, both emerald green. Next comes a button nose and surprisingly rosy cheeks. They’re smiling. It looks like a young woman, perhaps a few years his junior.

“Thank you,” she says. Her voice is so soft he struggles to hear it over the waves. Seemingly surprised by her own words, she ducks back down so only her eyes are visible above the water.

He blinks again. Did she just- He’s not hallucinating, right? And even if he is, he should remember his manners.

“You are most welcome,” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a plot twist, Flayn gives away the fish she craves.


End file.
